


Speaking in Wolf

by Justsayapple



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Adult Content, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, In which two boys worry and Sypha has to relearn herself, M/M, Magical Setbacks, Multi, OT3, Polyamory, Post season 2 (season 3 didn't happen in this fic), Rating May Change, Werewolf Turning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:40:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justsayapple/pseuds/Justsayapple
Summary: Change is inevitable. It can be excruciatingly painful, unwarranted and unwanted, but it’s guaranteed to happen. The important part is how to move forward with that change, and not lose oneself in it.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Trevor Belmont & Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 39
Kudos: 83





	1. Mistake

Everyone makes mistakes—a misjudgment, a miscalculation, a misstep. All human errors. Not an inconsequential thing, though, to have happen while fighting something that isn’t human. 

In Sypha’s defense, her rhythm had already been thrown off by the drastic change in their opponents. Roaming across the countryside, they’d gotten into skirmishes with beings other than the demonic night creatures the three of them are used to hunting, sure, but these beasts are new to her. And based solely on the creative way Trevor had cursed in the moments after they were ambushed, she knows not to take their enemies lightly. 

Werewolves are rare apparently, and _dangerous_. That point’s been driven home by the fact that it’s only taken two of them to jam the well oiled machine that is their teamwork—huge creatures built of muscle and fur, all teeth and claws and brute strength.

And frustratingly resilient, apparently. 

The sheer size of the things, along with the confined space of the woods, has prevented Trevor from using the Morningstar to its full potential, has kept Alucard from using his sword physically in hand, and is forcing Sypha to rely on close combat spells. It’s cramped and hectic, but finally Alucard is able to pin one of the beasts straight through its collarbone to an exceptionally thick tree trunk with his blade. Binding its wrists to the wood is all Sypha can do before she’s forced to duck out of the way of the second wolf, its claws barely catching on the fabric of her robes as they swipe dangerously close to her chest. With a thought, she sets the thing’s face ablaze, and it roars in anger and begins lashing out in any direction it can. Alucard uses its disorientation to his advantage, grabbing it by the forearm and twisting to slam it to the ground; that’s followed quickly by the heavy beat of Trevor’s sword cleaving halfway into the wolf’s neck. It gurgles and spasms as it bleeds out.

One down. Good.

But growling just behind them is the reminder this isn’t over. Alucard wills the sword out of the thing’s chest, preparing to fully behead this one. But the wolf puts all its might into pulling its arms down, shattering the thick ice cuffs Sypha had bound across its wrists, and in its lurching rush toward them, the sword completely misses its target. It lashes out hard with one arm, making contact and sending Alucard flying back into the trees, the next blow throwing Trevor hard against the heavy trunk of an oak. As quickly as she can, Sypha summons three ice spears, standing her ground as the wolf closes the distance between them. It snarls as two hit home, embedded in its chest and gut, but it isn’t enough. 

And that’s when the mistake comes. One small slip of her foot throws off her aim, and the last spear whistles past the beast’s head. Sypha can see the fury in its eyes and the foam around its mouth as it slams her into the dirt, her ears ringing from the force of her head hitting the ground. Before she can even think, even begin to panic, enormous teeth are in her. The wolf has snapped its jaws down around her shoulder with a sickening crunch.

Pain doesn’t even begin to describe how it feels. It _burns_. 

Sypha’s mind slips and goes blank in white-out agony.

Everything's in a fog. Her ears are still ringing. She feels a sudden coolness at the very tips of her fingers. She thinks she feels her fingers? A loss of heat and pressure; the wolf must be off her. Maybe? She can’t tell. The pain is too much, is so overwhelming that she can’t even open her eyes to check. She thinks she hears voices, but they sound far away, and she can’t make out what they’re saying. 

It’s too much. 

She loses her herself in that burning, loses comprehension, loses thought. 

* * * * * * * * *

All of the breath in Trevor’s body rushes out at once as his back slams into the wood, which, _ow_ , causes him to lose his bearings for a few seconds before picking himself back up again. Where’s—?

A horribly pained yell draws Trevor’s attention to the scene not too far from where he’s standing. The wolf has Sypha pinned to the ground. Has its teeth buried in her. His stomach drops.

As he wills his body into motion, spikes of ice sprout from the ground, spearing the snarling beast off of Sypha. They’re lackluster, a last ditch effort from her body to protect herself, but without them, the werewolf would have kept biting and thrashing to rip her shoulder from her neck. 

There isn’t much room, but Trevor is able to get some momentum into his swing with the whip, aiming for the wolf’s side. It still manages to hit hard, knocking the huge creature out of Sypha’s space while goring its abdomen. The wolf tries to get back on its feet again despite its injuries, dead set on the target still lying in the dirt. 

It barely makes one step before a blur of red phases into view and the singing of steel robs the monster of its head. Trevor takes a deep breath, but the relief doesn’t set in, because _Sypha_.

Alucard makes it over to her in a rush, but Trevor can’t match his speed. Dread is forcing his feet to move painfully slowly. His mind crescendoes into the grim understanding of what has just happened—and he doesn't want to understand, wishes he could unlearn all the information his parents had taught him when he was younger, and everything he’s picked up since then. Because he knows.

He knows, and god it _hurts_. 

Sypha’s on the ground, her robe ripped around the shoulder, deep puncture wounds oozing blood slowly and starting to foam a bit around the edges. She’s slowly writhing, letting out painful groans, her face twisted into a heart-wrenching grimace. Trevor drops onto his knees next to her; Alucard is already on the ground, and his pale hands gently hold her face, his own expression a contortion of worry. He’s not used to seeing her in pain either...

“Sypha? Can you hear me?” Alucard asks, trying and failing to keep the anxiety from his voice. He gets no response, just more of the strained sounds being pushed from behind her teeth. Turning his attention to the wound, Alucard rips away whatever thin strips of her robe are still clinging to her bloody shoulder. But is that going to help at this point? Whatever bandaging they have is with their other supplies. Not that it’s going to do much anyway; no amount of salve or pain relief or dressing can help with this. There really isn’t—

Sypha lets out a sob that snaps his attention back to the present. Alucard is bent down over her with his face buried in one of the wounds at the juncture of her neck. Grabbing him by the collar of his coat, Trevor pulls the dhampir away from her hard. “What do you think you’re _doing?_ ” 

Alucard turns his head and spits darkened blood out of his mouth, and gags, catching his breath before trying to twist his way out of the grip to go back down to her shoulder.

Trevor has to put all his strength into holding him back. “Jesus christ, stop it! You’ll only make her weaker!” He gives another firm tug to try and get Alucard’s attention. 

Lip pulled back, he glowers at Trevor. “We have to get whatever venom or contagion that got in, _out_.” 

Trevor gives another tug, maybe too hard this time, but he needs to get the point across. Alucard needs to know. “That isn’t. Going. To Help.”

“At least it’s something,” Alucard snarls back, shoving Trevor off with far more force than he needs to. “You don’t seem to have any plan of what we can do to—”

“That’s because there’s _nothing_ we can _do_!” 

A pause at that, and Alucard’s expression drops into the fear and unwanted clarity Trevor has already been feeling, his gaze suddenly becoming hollow and distant.

“Nothing?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

Trevor’s eyes fall back down to Sypha. She’s gone limp, her pained gasps quieting now to soft whimpering. He finds her cool, clammy hand with his own and lowers his head, not having the heart to look back up at the equally devastated man next to him.

“Nothing.”


	2. Weak

While it’s true that they can apparently do ‘nothing’ about the consequences of the attack, the least they can do is carry Sypha back to their wagon and horses that await them in a small clearing not too far from where the skirmish took place. The night is, unfortunately, still young.

Alucard places her down as gently as he can on the blankets Trevor has laid out on the wooden floor, trying to offer whatever comfort she can actually feel right now. His gaze drifts down to her shoulder again and he’s startled to realize that the slight foaming around the edges of the punctures has turned into a full fester. It reeks. 

That shouldn't be possible. That should _not_ be able to happen so quickly.

Alucard turns to hurriedly dig through their supplies for bandaging and anything else that can be used to combat the infection, before he realizes that he cannot hear Trevor panicking behind him, and remembers. This is an infection, but unfortunately, not one any sort of tonic or disinfectant can aid.

He still feels the need to do _something,_ though, so Alucard instead grabs a clean cloth and small pouch of water, to clean around the wounds. He pats gently at the crusted blood stuck to her skin, and glances up at Trevor without lifting his head. “I need you to tell me what’s going to happen to her.” He knows he sounds cold, but makes no effort to change his tone. 

“You clearly know, and staying silent isn’t helping.” 

Trevor meets his eyes at that. The hunters posture reads as nothing but defeated, slouched with his back against the wooden wall of the carriage, one hand laid out and a single finger rubbing the side of Sypha’s crumpled hand unhurriedly. 

“I’m honestly surprised you don’t know anything about this shit.” He mutters, equally lacking warmth. 

Alucard knows what he’s getting at, though. He reflects briefly on how his father had showed little interest in other supernatural beings, couldn’t be bothered with them after isolating himself for so long, and hadn’t wanted to waste time educating his son on anything other than the creatures he’d probably see most commonly. Alucard had been far more interested in what lessons his mother had provided, anyway. Medical knowledge and lessons in sympathy had run deeper than that. 

But thinking of the past isn’t helping right now, and his patience is running thin.

“Just because I’m not human doesn’t mean I’m knowledgeable about every single monster in existence and their unique biology,” he says, somewhat abrasively, continuing to dab gently at Syphas shoulder. “I know what a werewolf is. I am not aware of how they’re created.”

Trevor drops his gaze back to the floor for a moment, then to Sypha’s slack face. 

“Well, you obviously know about vampires. If a human’s not already dead beforehand, becoming a vampire? Guaranteed to be a successful turning. No question.” 

An uncomfortable and weighty pause hangs between them.

“Werewolves?” he continues, finally. “One out of a hundred might make it, if that particular bastard’s lucky.” 

Alucard sucks in a hard breath at that, hand stilling and grip becoming tight around the dirtied cloth. 

Trevor mutters something like _or unlucky_ , and continues talking, broken out of his locked-down silence; he almost seems to be finding solace in sharing the pessimism that’s taken over his head. “They have to survive however the fucking thing wounded them first. And I don’t know if their spit is cursed or something, because there’s no venom or poisonous shit that comes from their mouths.” 

Virus-carrying bacteria most likely then, Alucard thinks, not that he has energy or patience to try and educate Trevor on that right now. But it explains why his hasty plan earlier wouldn’t have worked.

“Then if that person can’t handle the pain and how it spreads?” Trevor continues, “If their body gives up? They’re a goner.”

“....And if they do make it?”

“They probably wish they hadn’t.”

A sudden sharp inhale from behind Sypha’s lips instantly draws back the men’s attention, and her previously still form begins to flex in pain. She still isn’t conscious, her eyes glued shut, but her heart is beating more quickly than before. Too quickly. Frighteningly quickly. It’s a pace that could certainly send any human into cardiac arrest, which only pushes the panic Alucard’s feeling further up into his throat. He hears the rustling of Trevor grabbing for her clenching fist, and quickly places his own cool hand to her sweaty face. Sypha’s burning up, the feverish heat radiating powerfully off of her skin. Her jaw is clenched so tightly that it must be painful--but he wonders if she can even feel it. From what Trevor had said, this whole process is pain. 

Sypha has constantly been there for them, immeasurable in her love and support, doing anything she can to help the two of them out of any situation. She might snark and scold, being smug when she’s successful and they aren’t, but it all comes from a place of selfless care. Guilt spreads through Alucard as he watches her gasping in pain. How is it that now, when she needs their help the most, they can do nothing to alleviate her suffering? 

Useless. Utterly useless. Alucard lowers his head, eyes closing at the feeling of tears prickling there. He feels a warm hand on his back, and Trevor leans across to gently bump his head against Alucard’s. A reminder: at least he isn’t alone in his inability to help her. Sharing remorse doesn’t alleviate it, but there’s an understanding in that shame. They are _both_ weak.

* * * * * * * * *

The night passes at an agonizingly slow pace, not that Alucard’s been able to successfully keep track of time. Trevor has said the only thing they can do now is wait. So wait they do—murmuring what words of comfort they can while she whimpers, wiping the sweat from her face, and fanning her with the lid taken from one of their boxes of supplies. The festering of her shoulder has healed almost as quickly as it had appeared, the infection gone and the wounds closed. Now the bite only looks raised and an angry shade of red. Trevor says that is a ‘good’ sign, but with only the barest hints of positivity in his voice. He doesn’t want to get either of their hopes up. 

More time passes and her scorching fever ebbs, leaving her to shiver intensely in its wake. Trevor hadn’t mentioned if this was another ‘good’ sign or not. The two pile on Trevor’s cloak and what blankets they can spare to try and stave off the cold that only she is feeling. 

At some point, daylight begins to peek its way through some of the tiny holes in the canvas coverings of their wagon, and the two lay themselves down on either side of Sypha. She’s still shivering but her noises of pain have subsided. She still, however, shows no signs of waking, and neither of them are really sure about how long this state is going to last. Trevor gently puts one arm around her middle, and presses a small kiss to her temple. Alucard does the same, the stress and grief and exhaustion finally catching up with his body, his eyes falling shut. They can only wait. Only hope that time will pass quickly, that they can get some rest, and that she’ll wake with them. He takes a deep breath before his mind finally drifts to sleep.

She smells different now.


	3. Nothing

_ Pain. Heat. The heavy, fast-paced thudding of her heart beating against her rib cage. Tingling discomfort traveling up and down her spine. Pinpricks of lights, invasive, like stars dancing behind her eyelids in the dark.  _

_ Nausea. Cold. Time and space don’t exist, and all she knows is that she doesn’t know.  _

_ A hitch in those sensations. Like taking a harsh breath in after jumping into water that’s too frigid. A pause. And...the drawn out, indescribable agony finally receding. Cutting out almost abruptly, plunging her consciousness into complete darkness; snuffing out what little awareness had remained like a candle in black tar. Heavy but empty. Terrifyingly comfortable and welcomed.  _

_ A breath.  _

_ The sudden piercing, ringing, of hearing coming back to her. _

_ A twitch or two of the fingers. _

Feeling _ that isn't  _ pain _. _

* * * * * * * * *

It takes much more effort than it should for Sypha to slowly open her eyes. Even more effort to try and make out her surroundings. The roof above her is canvas; the wagon then? She’s tucked in with blankets on the wooden floor. Sweat has made her underclothes stick to her uncomfortably. There are familiar voices coming from outside but she can’t quite make out their words. 

Sypha tries to push herself up, but her arms are far too shaky, and she lets out a small yelp as her hands slip and she drops on her elbows with a thud. The voices outside stop at that, and in a second the covering flap of the back of the wagon flies open. Her vision frays in the sudden bright light, focuses back in on Alucard and Trevor staring at her wide eyed, as if they’d seen a ghost. She barely gets a breath in to ask them what’d happened before they both clamber into the carriage as fast as they can, practically tripping over one another in their rush.

They surround her with themselves, chaste kisses on her face from one and noises of relief from the other. Alucard’s hands pressing here and there as if checking for injury and Trevor’s stubble rough against her cheek. She knows they’re trying to be gentle, but the proximity of them, and the way her mind still feels like day old porridge, makes the affection borderline overwhelming. It takes the two men a moment to notice Sypha’s pushing at them with her hands, just trying to get herself enough space to breathe. 

“W—” Her voice cracks painfully, the rawness of her throat bringing attention to how her mouth feels incredibly...gross. Alucard reaches over into the supplies and grabs the waterskin and offers it to her. Sypha takes it from his hand without thought, and oh, water has never tasted sweeter. She drinks as much as she can before having to stop from the nausea that comes from drinking so much so quickly on an empty stomach. 

Sypha turns her attention back to her partners who are sitting in her space but saying nothing. They look beyond exhausted, bags under Trevor’s tired eyes and a hollow expression over Alucard’s pale face.

“What happened?” 

Neither of them say anything. Trevor focuses on the floor, oddly avoidant, while Alucard’s gaze drifts to her left shoulder. She turns to do the same and it all rushes back to her at once. The fight, the mistake, and the bite. But where she imagines there to be bloody punctures covered in bandaging, she finds... none? Where there should be bruised and open wounds—she instead finds a healed trail of scars. For a moment she’s transfixed; there’s a light silver-blue sheen to them, almost opalescent. When she tries moving her shoulder around a bit, there’s no pain or twinge of protesting muscle. It’s a little stiff, sure, but so is the rest of her. Her mind doesn’t quite know how to react and she needs answers.

“What  _ happened _ to me?”

* * * * * * * * *

And so they tell her. About being attacked, about how she had been unconscious for three days, and how they had made slow progress on returning to the castle due to their worry for her physical wellbeing if the wagon jostled too much, or even worse, broke down. Sypha tries to take it all in, but she feels stuck, sore and, rightfully, a  _ bit  _ overwhelmed. 

The two men help her outside, never taking their hands off her as Sypha tries her best to use her legs again. She grimaces through the soreness and the tingling pin-pricks darting up and down her limbs that have already rushed in to replace the numbness . The sunlight feels harsh after being in the dark for so long, but it’s much needed. Trevor helps sit her down outside the cart; they all agree that Alucard should go hunt something for them to eat.

Trevor stacks a few logs on each other for Sypha to light a fire for cooking, a regular and mundane routine that she doesn’t have to think twice about. She wills the familiar thought of creating flame and—

Nothing.

Sypha frowns, and tries again. No sparks, no heat, no feeling, no changes. 

Nothing.

Trevor turns to her expectantly and Sypha tries not to let her confusion show, but she’s always been a bad liar.

“Can you start the fire?” She asks, nervously uncertain. Trevor’s brows knit a little in confusion, tinted with a hint of worry.

“Okay,” he says slowly, “I’ll go grab the flint.” 

Sypha hugs her legs close and attempts to quell her panic. It’s most likely due to her mind catching up to being awake again after whatever happened, right? It’s probably normal to not be able to do the simplest magic she’s known for almost her entire life because she’s just...out of it...right?

Trevor lights the fire and Alucard comes back to the wagon, two rabbits in hand. Sypha stares out across the trees, unfocused, as the two prepare lunch with their usual minor, habitual bickering, most commonly over who dresses the rabbits ‘correctly’ and who’s adding the ‘right’ amount of salt. Sypha pays it no mind and tries to stop herself from spiraling. She’s not sure she’s doing a good job of it.

The smell of cooking meat breaks Sypha out of her stupor, her stomach making it painfully clear just how hungry she actually is. Her eyes snap to where Trevor is removing a stick with half of a rabbit from the fire to check if it’s done. After a few pokes here and there to check the tenderness, he extends the stick over into Sypha’s space to kindly offer it to her first.

“Here, careful, it’s ho—” Before he can even finish his sentence, she snatches the stick out of Trevor’s hand, quickly bringing the rabbit to her mouth as she works to get as much of the meat in each bite as she can. She can’t even feel if it’s burning her tongue or not, all she knows is that she  _ needs _ to eat. And it tastes  _ good _ .

Sypha comes back to herself to find Alucard and Trevor staring at her in bewilderment as she’s cleaning the small bones between her teeth and fingers. She blinks and sheepishly sets the stick on the ground, before looking back up at them. She clears her throat before asking,

“Are you going to…?” Sypha trails off pointing at the half of rabbit still propped up by the fire that has yet to be claimed. Trevor still looks a bit unsettled, but Alucard reaches over with a small smile and gives her the food. 

* * * * * * * * *

They all seem reluctant to talk about it, silence falling over the three of them as they finish eating.  _ It _ being the fact that now, only one of them still happens to be human. Alucard asks Sypha gently to drink more water, looks over to Trevor while she does. The hunter has his jaw firmly set as he glances between Sypha and the fire, like he doesn’t want to take his eyes off her, but at the same time, seems nervous to look at her for too long. 

“So what now?” Sypha asks in an almost small voice. It’s unlike her to be indecisive in the face of a challenge or uncertainty, and that makes Alucard’s heart twinge.

“I think it’s best we try to head back to the castle as quickly as we can, from there…” Alucard trails off. He doesn’t actually know where to go ‘from there’. He just wants the three of them to be somewhere safe before they unpack whatever this means for them now. For  _ her _ , now.

Sypha nods and looks down at the ground, before immediately raising her head again, a look of worry clearly on her face. “We won’t make it in time.”

Trevor frowns at that, his eyes meeting Alucard’s similar confused gaze, before looking back at her. 

Her expression twists with distress. “We only have 4 days,” she clarifies. “That's not good, is it?” 

It doesn't sound like a question.

Alucard is lost for one second more. Then it clicks. Speakers use the stars to navigate when there are no road signs or villages in sight, and very few of them ever carry actual physical maps. Sypha has that information ingrained in her, knows the workings and cycles of the night sky. Which means she also knows the phases of the moon…

A pit falls in Alucard’s stomach. They are still, by estimation, about a week’s ride away from their home. 

They aren’t going to make it in time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god it's been SO long since I've updated!!  
> I really have no excuse other than writing still being a little intimidating for me, and that season 3 threw me WAY off my rhythm (wasn't happy about it). Huge thanks and love as always to my amazing friend etherati for beta-ing <3


	4. Wolf

“Can you tell me what’s going to happen tonight?” Sypha asks, currently curled up against Trevor’s side as he drives--‘tonight’ being only a few hours from now. 

The wagon hits its familiar bumps and thuds on the road, juddering up into their bones; it’s something she can focus on while she waits for him to answer. Alucard is up ahead of them, scouting, looking for somewhere they can hunker down to deal with what comes next. 

Because they haven't made it in time. _Of course_ they haven't made it in time. Only one frustrating day off, by her estimations. 

Trevor takes a moment before he replies, a good sign to Sypha that he’s thinking and that he will be honest with what he says next. That does not help with her nerves.

“I’ve only seen this happen once,” he says finally. “I didn't fight when I went on hunts with my family, I was just there to watch and learn. I was too young to, you know, participate? Before...well before I didn't have a choice anymore.” He shifts uncomfortably, like he usually does when thinking about his family's end without hiding behind forced jokes. She curls up a bit closer. “But it wasn’t pretty. My father tried reasoning with the man, but fucked if that worked.” Trevor looks down at her, must see the upset look on her face before he realizes what she's really asking, what he should actually be telling her. Feelings still aren’t Trevor's forte, after a year of knowing him, but he’s working on it. He's trying, and he's trying for her, which means much more to Sypha in the moment than he could ever know. “I honestly don’t know what it will be like for you,” he says, quieter now. “Other than that it's going to hurt. A lot.” 

Sypha looks away at that. He's a seasoned fighter who knows pain like a dear friend, so just how much is ‘a lot'? 

Trevor gently rests his head on top of hers. “I’m sorry.” 

She knows he has nothing to apologize for; this is nowhere near his fault, but Sypha's too lost in thoughts to respond. What will it be like for her? Will she lose herself completely like the man Trevor and his family had hunted? Be nothing like herself, only like those big angry brutes that had ambushed them in the woods? 

What would losing one’s self even _feel_ like? Sypha has always had such a strong grasp on her identity. She knows who she is. The very thought of doubt like that is so unfamiliar that it leaves her with no idea of how to even begin challenging it. She doesn’t even have her magic…

Sypha feels powerfully sick at that thought. She keeps her head down, tries to lose herself in counting trees along the roadside. 

Alucard meets them on the road some time later, and leads them to the place he has found for the night. The three hitch up the wagon and horses safely a ways off the road, and walk further into the trees to the modest alcove Alucard has discovered.

It’s only when they enter that space--when Sypha realizes Alucard’s not wearing his coat, and Trevor immediately starts checking the perimeter--that it really hits her. This will be a place for them to restrain her, to stop her from getting out and hurting people. Innocent people. _She’s_ the danger, not the one _in_ danger. Settling herself on a moss covered stump at one end of the space, Sypha tries with all her will to not feel sorry for herself. It's Alucard and Trevor and the innocents she might harm that deserve her regret and sorrow. It was her own stupid slip-up that caused all of this in the first place. 

Alucard walks over and sits on the ground next to her. He takes a small breath before speaking. He's hesitant. How could Alucard know how to approach this either? “...are you alright?” 

Sypha lets out a single huff of breath at his question, a poor imitation at an insincere laugh. “Of course not. I’m...” 

She pauses, watching Trevor clear a fallen branch. “I’m afraid.” Her voice sounds small, unusual even to her own ears. It’s an admission that’s beyond difficult to make, for someone who has spent so long being fearless. Alucard takes one of her hands in his own, the coolness giving a sense of comfort and familiarity, grounding.

“We will figure this out,” he says after a moment, squeezing gently, voice sad. “You’re never alone.”

The uncertainty in his voice is faint, but she hears it regardless.

  
  


************

As twilight bleeds into true night, the world becomes overwhelmingly quiet. It's almost as if everything’s holding its breath for what’s going to happen next. Even the insects have gone silent.

Trevor and Alucard have given Sypha space, quite a few feet between them, simply watching her with worried eyes and loathing the necessary distance. She glances at them before letting out a heavy sigh and looking down at the dirt. Her acceptance of this, however reluctant, just feels so fucking wrong.

A chill wind sweeps through the clearing, rustling the leaves and their hair. Trevor thinks it almost seems like a pitiful ‘good luck with this’ sentiment from the rest of the world around them. 

Cruel bastard.

Then the clouds part and the moon shines itself down upon them; something once so beautiful, now seemingly overbearing and malevolent. Sypha’s head slowly rises to behold it, lips parted, limbs slack, and eyes blown wide, her gaze almost trance-like. Her entire body pulses with the force of a heartbeat far stronger than her own. There’s one more tense moment of silence, and then…

Then Trevor wishes he didn’t possess the ability to hear. 

An incredibly loud, yet somehow muffled snap, and Sypha folds in on herself, her arms wrapped around her abdomen, a scream emerging from behind her teeth. He hears Alucard hiss in a breath and bile rises into Trevor’s throat as he realizes that crunching must have been her _spine_ . The sounds rising up through Sypha’s throat, Trevor can barely comprehend as hers--It's all so unfamiliar and _wrong._ Sypha tries to hold back the next shriek, but it stutters out into several broken sounds as that initial snap is followed in quick succession by the small and sickening cracks of her ribs and vertebrae, bringing her to her knees. 

The whole thing is disgusting to watch, yet Trevor can’t look away, can't stop up his ears; it's an orchestra of pain and misery as her body convulses and fractures and turns in on itself, tearing the woman he loves apart from the inside out. Another pulse runs through Sypha and her body shifts hard: her shoulders separate and widen in one rough movement, limbs elongating with more snapping of bone, skin stretching, and robes ripping in a revolting display. Trevor sends a bitter thanks to whatever deity might be watching this mess that Sypha’s back is to him--so that he doesn’t have to see whatever horrible changes are being made to her face with every high-pitched shout she lets out.

It’s uncanny and surreal to Trevor the way her form swells with mass that had not existed before. For all the magic he’s seen, this feels like absolutely none of it. It’s too real and too organic to be anything _but_ natural, but the growth still feels like it comes from nowhere as it completely engulfs the previously small Speaker with heavy muscle and dense fur. Trevor doesn't dare avert his gaze, but his brain spares the one free thought it can to what Alucard must be making of this, as someone who has never seen this sort of turning.

Sypha regains all of his attention when her last agonizing cry slides dramatically in pitch down to a low, deep, gurgling whine. 

A shuddering mountain of a creature lies hunched in front of them. There's no sign of further physical changes; the thing is only letting out short huffs of air through its nose, now.

“Sypha?” Alucard’s voice sounds fragile and foreign, almost as if Trevor has forgotten what human speech sounds like, overwhelmed by the cacophony of pain he was just forced to sit through. 

But Alucard is about to learn, that now? This isn't Sypha.

The wolf whips its head around at the word, lips pulled back in a snarl with its startlingly wild gaze focused on Alucard. Trevor’s hand automatically drops down to grip the morningstar at his hip, purely reflexive, before he reminds himself that they can't use weapons on her, not in...whatever the hell this turns out to be. 

It-- _she_ \- _-_ pivots on her haunches to face them. If she were a normal born and bred wolf, she would be beautiful; strikingly bright blue eyes and thick strawberry blonde fur fading smoothly to white on her chest and belly. Instead, these lovely features are attached to a creature designed to elicit fear rather than awe. Beautiful or not, this form is a monster.

Sypha growls as she slowly crawls a few steps towards them with predatory focus. Trevor breathes and readies himself for one tense moment more, then Sypha digs her heels into the dirt and lunges towards them with a roar. 

The two quickly part in opposite directions to force her to split her attack. She lands where Alucard had been standing and skids to a halt, kicking up a cloud of dust. Sypha raises herself on her hind legs, showing off just how big she truly is. She towers over them, and Trevor has to swallow back a blast of raw intimidation as she looks down on them with absolute fury on her lupine face.

There's nothing familiar in that gaze. There's no love or caring, no mischief or smugness, nothing that says _Sypha_. There's only primal aggression and a hunger that's demanding to be let out, regardless of on who or what.

“Sypha, _please_ ,” Alucard tries again, before he has to back out of the way of another attack.

“You know there’s no reasoning with her tonight!” Trevor shouts, probably more aggressively than he should; to say he understands his partner’s distress is an understatement, to say the least.

He pushes a little whistle through his teeth to draw Sypha’s attention back towards himself. He slides away from her reaching claws and kicks dirt up in her face to blind and disorient her. Sypha snarls, shaking her head before swinging wildly with one arm. It manages to make contact with him, sheer fucking luck, and holy shit does it feel like he just got slammed by a runaway carriage full of boulders. The force of the blow sends him tumbling several yards away onto the ground. He's definitely going to be feeling that in the morning. 

Well.

If they make it that far. 

************

It's hard to say how much time has passed since the horror that was Sypha’s turning, but Alucard has long since become sick of tormenting her in their endless attempt to distract her from leaving the clearing. It becomes almost repetitive in its motions; change her target, avoid attacks, regain her attention, dodge, repeat. The repetition does nothing to dispel his nerves, nor his gnawing distress. 

Alucard can tell that Trevor is getting tired. His firm and sure movements have slowly lost their confident edge, due to the physical strain, or maybe due to how emotionally draining it is watching Sypha rampage with no sign of her return in sight. Most likely both.

Waiting for his next chance to call Sypha back to him, Alucard sees the other man dodge, only to slip on the pebbly ground and lose his balance--a miscalculation he never would have made were he not so exhausted. Trevor has no time to pick himself back up off of the ground before their wolf lunges in close. 

Time seems to slow down. Trevor won't be able to survive the trajectory of her claws, aiming for a slash to the throat or a mauling of his gut. And Alucard _knows_ Trevor won't try to properly defend himself with the knives on his belt if it means hurting Sypha.

But that hurt will nowhere _near_ compare to the devastation that would consume her if Trevor is lost to them by her own hands--her hands which she has absolutely no control over. 

He can't let this happen.

Time brings itself back to pace, and Alucard shifts to Trevor's aid, tossing him halfway across the clearing--roughly, but safely out of Syphas way. 

Which puts Alucard--

Pain erupts from his side as he feels sharp, thick claws sink into his flesh. Alucard shouts in pain as he’s driven back onto the ground. He feels blood running in a torrent down his torso and he suspects the wounds have gone deeper than he believed they could from a single swipe. 

Alucard looks up to a set of massive, open jaws--trailing drool, closing in quickly, and hellbent on crushing his skull. He drops himself into a crouch, doubting he’ll be able to get completely out of her way fast enough, but--

Then he hears the rattling of flying chain, and Sypha’s giant teeth loudly snap shut mere inches from his face. She lets out a deep and guttural howl of rage and pain, and the smell of burning fur and flesh drives Alucard to look down to see that the Morningstar has wrapped itself around her ankle and up her calf. 

He leans to look around Sypha and sees Trevor pulling tightly on the handle of his whip, straining to hold her back, teeth clenched, and a look of utter regret and guilt on his face.

“I'm sorry” he says, before yanking the weapon back as hard as he can, pulling Sypha’s left hind leg backwards--throwing off her balance and sending her to fall front first in the dirt. 

Alucard has no time to deal with the conflicting feelings of appreciation and betrayal brought on by Trevor's protection. He lets out a hiss, and grimaces at the intense sting of his wound knitting itself back together, before he manages to phase himself once more--this time onto Sypha’s back, quickly grabbing her thick wrists, and pinning her arms against her.

She thrashes and yowls in fury against the entrapment and the burning of metal against her leg. Alucard hears Trevor rush up behind them to pull the chain loose and put the weight of his body into holding her legs down.

Alucard feels beyond sick at the rough treatment they're inflicting on her, as it takes all of their strength to just barely stop Sypha from throwing them off. But he has run out of ideas of what else they can do at this point. Exhausted and battered, neither of them want to cause her further injury, but they must--

  
  


************

Trevor’s muscles strain as he tries his damned best to hold down the wolf’s thrashing legs and attempts to anchor himself as much as possible. Her tail lashes back and forth, hitting him occasionally upside the head, and, hell, it might be funny in any other circumstance. If it didn’t feel like the thing was a forearm-thick branch that also happened to be covered in fur.

Trevor also tries his damned best not to think about his whip, tossed carelessly aside, bits of crusted flesh still stuck to the chains.

Sypha’s throes grow less violent and the vicious sounds begin to taper off. Her bared teeth finally disappear, covered by her relaxing lip. Trevor takes the opportunity to look up and see that the night has finally drawn to a close. Dawn slowly leaks into the sky, and it’s taken its sweet fucking time doing so. The wolf under him calms and her limbs go slack as the tension releases its hold on her. He and Alucard cautiously step off of her to see Sypha’s form begin to shrink.

He has a hard time finding a good way to describe Sypha’s turning back since this is the one part he’s never seen. Melting? No that doesn’t fit. Maybe shedding? He’s not sure. The dense fur fades out to nothing, her limbs shorten, and the large mass of muscles all but shrink down to her familiar tiny frame--now nude and curled up on the ground beneath them.

“Could you go get a blanket or something?” Trevor asks as he kneels next to Sypha. His voice is hoarse and he can hear his exhaustion in it. Alucard hurries for the wagon outside of the clearing without question. Hopefully he’ll give the horses a few pats and calming words while he’s there; what just took place here must have been a hell of a thing for them to listen to from the trees.

Sypha stirs and, very slowly, manages to lift herself up. Trevor’s hands hover around her, not sure if contact right now would be helpful or not. Her eyes are beyond confused and hazy. She gazes up at him blearily, then around the open space. She’s most likely looking for Alucard, he realizes after a moment. Sypha frowns at the stains of blood in the upturned dirt, her eyes following the massive clawed paw prints, then falling on her own blood painted hands and arms. How is the blood still on her, after turning back? Trevor doesn’t have the chance to think on that before he sees Sypha begin to scare, anxious breath coming quick and labored.

“Hey, hey it’s okay--Sypha it's okay,” he says, trying his best to stop her from panicking as her breathing picks up. Trevor barely gets his hands around her arms before Sypha falls limp, once again losing consciousness, utterly exhausted.

Cradling her in his arms, Trevor looks down at her, brushing a stray strand of her now tangled and messy curls off her face. 

What the hell did she ever do to deserve this?  
  
Alucard is back, now. Without a word, he carefully wraps Sypha in Trevor’s cloak before scooping her up to gently carry her to the wagon. It takes Trevor a moment to try and gather enough of his own senses together to follow them. 

His eyes wander to Alucard, his white shirt unsalvageable, between the huge slash marks and the blood stains. His internalized gratitude is conflicted, as Trevor knows he wouldn't have survived that attack--but he also knows that the stupid bastard had put himself in harm’s way for Trevor’s own useless ass. 

As they draw close to their carriage, he notices Sypha’s limp feet bouncing slightly with every step and Trevor gets a glimpse of a large, angry, raw mark peeking out on one ankle. He hastily averts his eyes from it, the first and only wound he's ever laid on her.

He’s never been one to ask for or seek forgiveness. But...God, that’s something Trevor will _never_ be able to forgive himself for.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this "oops! all pain!" chapter, there will be happy moments in this fic! I promise! Also thank you for being so patient in between chapters, i'm still very new to this laskfja;ld and as always thank you SO much to my amazing friend etherati for beta-ing <3

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve almost always seen Trevor as the main focus of supernatural changes, which is super compelling and I’m a huge sucker for it! But I thought, hmmm....what about Sypha? Thank you so much to my amazingly talented pal etherati for beta-ing for me <3 (This is my very first fic so I hope I can make something worth while!)


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